


Interlude I and II

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Interlude I and II

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Interlude by Kassandra

Interlude  
By Kassandra <>  
2 July 1998

* * *

It was too fucking hot. And when Alex Krycek stepped into the motel room he was forced to share with Fox Mulder he groaned.

The place was a rathole, but cheap enough that the Bureau would cover their unexpected stay. Mulder, who apparently traveled prepared, had vanished into the bathroom during his absence and he could hear the shower running.

Dropping his hastily purchased toiletries on the bed, Krycek sighed, went over to stand in front of the ancient window air conditioner.

It was emitting only the slightest draft of dank, cool air, none of which made it to the other side of the stifling room.

Great. Fucking great. Tugging savagely at his tie, he walked back over to the cubby of the closet, draped the silk over the hanger and took off his jacket. 

Thank God, he'd been able to find an acceptable shirt down the street. But he was going to have to wear the same goddamned suit and tie tomorrow. Goddamned Mulder had simply gotten a suitbag out of the trunk, flicked him an unreadable grin and hung the goddamned suitbag up.

He scowled at it, hung his jacket up.

The bathroom door emerged as he sat down on the bed to survey cheap socks and underwear, a disposable razor, and all the other things he'd need to pick up to maintain his appearance as a freshly scrubbed Bureau agent.

Mulder stood there wearing nothing at all, toweling his hair dry, that oddly Egyptian gaze resting on him. "Get what you need?"

He stared back. Mulder was.....well, tempting was an understatement. Well endowed was only part of it. Fucking gorgeous was more the word he wanted.

Words.

His mouth was dry. "Yeah." It seemed safe, since he didn't remember what Mulder had asked him.

Mulder walked toward the other bed, still toweling his hair. "We got the last room. There's some sort of bowling convention in." The twist of his lips invited Krycek to share the joke.

So he did. "Bowling?" Incredulously.

"Yeah. So we're stuck with this room." Mulder's mouth curved a bit more. "With a semi-working air-conditioner. And windows that don't open."

Recalled to his discomfort, Krycek nodded. Bent to untie his shoes, still watching Mulder from the corner of his eye. 

Mulder, as unselfconscious as a small child, sprawled on the bed and reached for the remote. Stark naked. Deliciously naked. Temptingly naked.

Kicking off his shoes, Krycek found himself possessed of two conflicting impulses. One was to simply pounce on the naked Mulder.

The second impulse was to snarl at Mulder to at least put on some underwear, for Christ's sake.

Neither impulse won. But a third was born. He took off his trousers, carefully hung them up. Peeled out of the undershirt. The briefs. And padded barefoot to the bathroom. 

And goddamned Mulder watched him, completely impassive, but definitely looking at him.

He stepped into the humidity of the bathroom, as flushed and hot as if he'd stood in front of a fire. And turned the water to cold.......

Thinking dark thoughts about the man in the next room.

By the time he'd cooled both temper and flush down, he was almost amused. Definitely slightly aroused. 

Looking down at himself, he smiled. Walked back out, very much a la Mulder, toweling his hair dry with apparent unconcern. Stopped near Mulder's bed, watching the evening news.

Stood hipshot, inwardly admiring the way this showed off not only the muscles of his ass, but the slight jut of his cock.

He could feel Mulder's eyes on him, as tangible as a touch.

Tilted his head to look down and found eyes that were almost green meeting his. Hot eyes. Eyes that made his mouth go dry.

He dropped the towel and leapt.

Warm skin under his, and Mulder wrestled him over, their mouths meeting, open and hot and wet.

Tongues thrusting into each other's mouths.

Mulder pinned him briefly, but Mulder had a swimmer's muscle, not as much bulk, he turned the tables, pressing himself into Mulder, hot and rampant and ready and Mulder went still on him. 

Scarily still.

He broke away, drew his head back to stare down at Mulder. "What?"

Mulder's smile was lazy. "You won."

He found he was breathing hard. "What did I win?"

"Me." Mulder stretched beneath him, arched up, pressing his erection against Krycek's belly.

He took in a ragged breath. "Any way I want?"

"If you want to fuck me, you can. If you want me to fuck you, I will." Mulder seemed hardly to care, now that he'd captured Krycek.

Piqued, Krycek rolled off him, lay beside him. "I don't know if I want you."

Mulder reached down to fold those artistic fingers around Krycek's cock. "This knows." Amused tone.

Enraged, he took hold of Mulder's wrist hard. "Yeah? Well, guess what, contrary to popular opinion, I think for it, it doesn't think for me."

Mulder gazed at him again, that unfathomable, almost cynical gaze. Then dove down, taking Krycek's slightly flagging erection into that furnace of a mouth.

He bucked under that, gasping, putting his hands into Mulder's hair, not gently. Fucked Mulder's mouth and throat without much care or kindness.

And Mulder pulled away, heedless of Krycek's hands. "Are you sure?" Politely. Stroking himself.

He growled and reached for Mulder, found himself embraced, kissed, a lover's arms and mouth and melted into it. Confused and dazzled by Mulder's mercurial shifts.

Kissed and kissed until he was dizzy. Warm hands, moving over his body, finding the spots that worked for him and he let them, completely selfish.

Mulder, apparently always prepared, had lube and a condom. He allowed himself to be lubed, rolled the condom down over Krycek's straining cock and applied more lube to the latex, wearing the same thoughtful, serious expression Krycek had seen in hunting Cole. 

Straddled Krycek and sank down on him, biting that insanely lush lower lip.

Moving with excruciating slowness.

Until Krycek seized him, fingers digging into Mulder's hips hard enough to bruise. And thrust hard up into that heat and tightness. Maddeningly slow, Mulder's weight wouldn't let him speed the pace.

And God, it was glorious, he felt like his bones had melted, his mind had melted, all he could think about was the sensation of fucking Mulder. Slow, sensual corkscrew of a movement until Mulder's hand at his own cock moved faster, until Mulder urged him on silently, pushing down against him.

Until he was half out of his mind and on the edge, so ready to explode that all it took was the sight of Mulder's face, eyes half-closed, expression ecstatic, the sight of Mulder's cock, the sight and smell of Mulder and he was gone, tipped over that edge, groaning as if he were in pain and not locked in pleasure burnt so deeply into him that he was never going to be able to find it and erase it.

Sweat dripped down on his chest, he inhaled raggedly, smelling the tang of that and semen and Mulder and felt a shudder of pleasure again.

Mulder, he thought dimly, he'd just fucked Mulder. Lanky, smart ass, exasperating Mulder. 

"God." It was a whisper, he opened his eyes to see Mulder's face above his, eyes half-closed. 

He reached up, pulled Mulder down, kissed him hard, tongue practically into Mulder's throat, nipped that full lower lip, sucked on it. And finally let go, tried to catch his breath.

"Jesus, Mulder."

Slow smile. Mulder leaned back up, disengaged with a sigh and deftly stripped the condom off. "It wasn't that much of a surprise, was it?"

He looked up into the guileless expression and chuckled. "Well, maybe a little."

Mulder grinned, padded to the bathroom. 

He heard water running, lifted his head after a few moments to see Mulder return, carrying a washcloth and a towel. Lay sated and comfortable while Mulder cleaned him up.

"You treat all your dates like this, Mulder?"

Brief flick of a grin. "You aren't my date, Krycek. But, yeah, I suppose." The grin widened. "Especially when I, ah, tease them the way I teased you."

"Asshole." Comfortably. He could almost forget he was supposed to be watching Mulder. Spying on Mulder. Endorphins, but even that knowledge was merely amusing.

The washcloth was cool. And the room was not.....

Mulder sank back down on the bed beside him, not touching. Arms behind his head, bunching up the pillow. Eyes back on the television.

Which was fine with Krycek.

He had some new things to consider.......

 

* * *

 

Slashx: 6 July 1998  
ArchiveX: 14 July 1998

* * *

Interlude 2  
By Kassandra 

Later that same night.....

When Krycek returned from the Stop 'N Shop, Mulder had moved up against the headboard, looking deliciously sated, hair rumpled and standing on end, mouth swollen from what they'd done. Knees bent, feet flat on the bed, a splendid and shameless view. 

Krycek handed him the popsicle. Stripped back out of the t-shirt, and borrowed jeans. Sat cross-legged between Mulder's feet.

Watching Mulder, he took the top of the popsicle into his mouth, relishing the cold. Mulder stared at him, still holding his own. Suddenly stripped the paper wrapping off and did the same. Smoldering at him.

God, that was hot. He leaned forward, ran the popsicle over Mulder's nipples, Mulder made a sound, not quite of complaint, as they pebbled up hard under the icy confection. Laughing softly, Krycek leaned forward, licked both of them, tasting lime and Mulder.

Heard Mulder chuckle softly. Leaned back again, drew a line down the middle of Mulder's chest, down his belly, and down his cock.

"Christ." Mulder's eyes were heavylidded. "You weren't kidding when you said you were a fan of mine, were you?"

He grinned. You have no idea, Mulder, he thought and rubbed the popsicle lightly on the head of Mulder's cock, saw it twitch.

"You gonna lick it off me?" Lazy voice. 

"Maybe." He lifted Mulder's cock, touched the popsicle to Mulder's balls, got a hiss.

"You're going to end up with that thing somewhere the sun doesn't shine," Mulder told him huskily.

"Or you will." He let the popsicle dip. Mulder slid down, opening to him.

And then suddenly he was flat on his back, Mulder's weight holding him down, Mulder's mouth hot on his skin, on his belly, moving down. Cold, Christ, that popsicle was cold and Mulder was decidedly perverse, stretching him, pushing it in and laughing under his breath.

He was just as perverse, he thought, when Mulder's mouth closed over his cock, when Mulder took it in deeply. Hot and wet, and cold and decidedly messy, and Christ, it felt good.

Weirdly surreal, he was lying on a motel bed in a room paid for by the Federal Bureau of Investigation letting his partner fuck him with a popsicle. When Mulder drew back, his expression both hilarious and startled, he blinked.

Mulder held up the stick. "It came off." Trying not to laugh.

He blinked. "Fuck, Mulder!" And yes, there was still a popsicle inside him. Cold and--what the hell flavor had he gotten Mulder, anyway?

And the bastard was chortling, leaned up and took his lime popsicle without so much as a by your leave, sucked on it and returned to Krycek's cock. Oh, Christ, cold, hot, cold and he nearly came off the bed, moaning.

Another abandonment, another long suck on the popsicle which would have been more properly applied to *him* and that expert mouth assaulted his balls, tongue rolling each against the roof of Mulder's mouth.

The ice inside him was freezing, melting, he hoped to hell it wasn't possible to get frostbite there and drew his knees back, letting Mulder have his own way.

He was *always* top in this kind of encounter, he insisted on it, but the melting ice felt....amazing.

And Mulder's tongue probed lightly, stroked the ring of muscle and he moaned, tipped his head back. That mouth, oh, Christ, Mulder must have been tutored by some god of the flesh, or some demon, he rolled his head from side to side, whimpering each time that unearthly cold tongue stroked him.

He was literally out of his mind with this, Goddammit, that son of a bitch with the nicotine jones, he'd never warned that Mulder was.....tempting. Dark. A fallen fucking angel, with the emphasis on fucking.

Warm finger replacing the tongue, the slippery sensation of lube and he opened his eyes to see Mulder's expression absorbed. "What are you doing?" A little panicked.

"Getting you ready." A smile that would have melted chrome off a bumper and another finger slid in.

"But," he began, the goddamned popsicle was still in there. 

Found himself staring, hypnotized, as Mulder rolled the condom on. Added extra lube. Found himself wondering what the ice would feel like to Mulder. If there was much left.

Felt himself stretched open slowly as Mulder pushed forward. "Is it good, Alex?" Low voice and he stared up into those eyes, nearly as green as his own today.

Was it hot? What was it? It was weird, that's what it was, and hot and thick and blunt and still cold from the melting confection. He bit his lip as Mulder pushed into him, blinking hard at the burn of it.

Mulder's hands stroked his thighs, his cock, which stubbornly refused to wilt, which rose like a defiant finger, swollen and dark rose from Mulder's attentions. Almost purple.

Especially as Mulder kept milking it with fingers slippery with lube. "You a virgin, Alex?"

He blinked, arched into Mulder's thrust. "What do you think?" Heart hammering. Oh, God, the burn melted into heat, into pleasure, and he wasn't sure he wanted to feel that with Mulder's cock up his ass.

He moved again, pushing himself into Mulder's fist, watching himself. Mulder reached out with his free hand, pulled Krycek's down. "Feel that." Softly. Amused. And hot, Christ, hotter than a supernova, his fingers identified where their bodies were joined and that was all fate wrote for Alex Krycek, rational human being.

He made an animal sound, his hips moving of their own accord, his brain in total hibernation or meltdown and all he could think about was the way it had felt to touch, the way it felt, the cold and the hot of it, swiftly turning to nothing but heat.

Sex. Who the hell had invented it, this was dangerous, and he couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, worked his ass on that thickness, wanting Mulder's face to change, wanting it to lose that almost distant absorption. 

And when it finally did, when Mulder's expression finally changed to flat out meltdown, he was already long gone, making helpless sounds as their bodies moved, wanting more, wanting all of it, wanting ecstasy that Mulder was holding just out of his reach.

He sobbed with need, felt Mulder's hand stripping him and suddenly exploded, hearing someone crying out again and again.

It was him. Mulder came silently, gripping him almost painfully tight, and by that time Krycek was trying to catch his breath.

And Mulder let himself down slowly, kissed Krycek's mouth gently. "You okay?"

"I'm not a virgin," Krycek told him sharply, still breathing hard. "Not any more." Brief wicked glint of a smile and Mulder shifted back again. Withdrew, holding the condom on. "Shower?"

He watched Mulder strip the used latex off, watched him rise and go to the bathroom door. He was sore, sticky and exhausted, and he couldn't imagine how the hell that bastard had missed this about Mulder.

"Sure," he told Mulder and rolled off the bed. "But I get to wash *your* back. And if you drop the soap...."

Mulder's grin almost warmed him. "Big talk. You aren't that much younger than I am."

Krcyek sighed. He might be younger, but he was old in knowledge. Far older than Mulder, who was still enough of a babe in the woods that he just didn't get it, thought there was really a truth to be discovered. "I am." Insolent grin.

It made Mulder laugh.

He heard the water go on in the bathroom, followed Mulder in.

Finis


End file.
